25_Angels and Assists

by Mignon Mykel

She tasted of coffee and chocolate; her face was smooth beneath my rough hands.

  I wanted more.

  I needed more.

  Lifting my face from hers, I took in her expression.

  Everything there echoed what was going on in my own mind.

  Shock. Want. Need.

  Slowly, I dropped my hands to her shoulders then danced my fingers down her arms, my thumbs pressing gently into the crook of her elbow, before trailing further down until her hands were in mine. I squeezed once.

  She didn’t pull back.

  “Molly?”

  Her jaw bunched.

  Her throat worked.

  But her whiskey-colored eyes remained on mine. “Yes.” The added nod was the clarification I needed.

  With her hand in mine, I led her to my bedroom.

  There wasn’t a word spoken, but we were on the same page. All it took was one more look, one more gaze.

  It wasn’t long before she was in my arms, skin to skin, her legs wrapped around my hips as I drove into her, reveling in her slick heat. Our mouths and bodies doing the only communication needed.

  Unlike every time I slept around and felt like I was cheating on my dead wife, being with Molly felt…

  Right.

  Only one other person had given me this same sense of completeness.

  And after, after we’d both dozed off, I awoke…

  Alone.

  I pulled away from Molly’s ear.

  Just giving her my recollection, telling her in soft spoken words, had my body itching again, dying for that closeness once again.

  A closeness I still hadn’t been able to find in another woman’s body.

  “And then you were gone.”

  Much like the day she’d told me of her broken engagement, Molly’s chin dropped to her chest. “It was a mistake,” she whispered again.

  “It was not a mistake.” I would hold that until the day I died.

  Being with Molly was not a mistake.

  She lifted her head, her mouth opening, but whatever she had to say she thought better of, instead pinching her lips tight and shaking her head.

  “There’s one thing I’ve been curious of though, Moll.”

  She didn’t bother loosening her lips. “Hmm?”

  “What else did Curtis want you to let go of?”

  Molly stared at me, her eyes flittering between mine as she decided what to say. I should have known she would avoid the question…which only had me even more curious. “We can’t do this, Mikey. It wouldn’t be good for Anderson.”

  “You’re using my son as an excuse.”

  “Did you not use him as an excuse too?” Her brows were raised in challenge.

  “No.”

  She nodded a few times. “You did. You said he was getting too old, so why not fire Molly so you can sleep with her again. As if she wanted to sleep with you.” God, her attitude did things to me. Her sarcasm; the heat she had when she was irritated, or confused, or hurt. “You assume a lot, Michael Leeds.”

  She stood from the bench and, before she could storm off, I stood too, grabbing her hand. “Admit it wasn’t a mistake.”

  “It was a mistake!”

  “Admit. It wasn’t. A mistake.”

  “Mikey, let go of me.” There was no fight in her voice as she tugged on her arm.

  I lowered my voice again, stepping in close and dropping my lips toward her ear once again. I liked this close proximity. I liked talking to her like what I had to say was a secret.

  While the words were just for her, I wouldn’t mind the world knowing I wanted Molly Attwood.

  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was five years in the making. You leaving my bed was the mistake.”

  “She was my best friend.” Molly’s voice was soft, but raw, and when I lifted my head I saw that her eyes were swimming with tears. “My very best friend. My sister, even. You are her husband.”

  “Was. I was her husband. She is dead, Molly.”

  “Yeah, from an accident you blamed me for, for years!”

  “That was grief talking, and you know it.” I ached to brush her unfallen tears from her cheeks.

  “But you still blamed me and know what?” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard again, her eyes nearly overflowing with those unshed tears. Then, with a shrug of her shoulder, she blinked slowly, finally sending a tear down her cheek. “I blame me too.”

  Chapter Nine

  Mikey

  When she pulled away that time, I let her. Partly because I recognized her need for space, but also because I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Molly blamed herself.

  Had she always felt that way?

  Or did I place that burden on her?

  The woman walked quickly though, and she was already through the doors of Macy’s by the time I scooped up the day’s shopping trip. My stride was longer than hers, and it wasn’t long before I was within six feet of her.

  Still.

  I gave her space.

  Not once did she look back over her shoulder, but she did keep her arms crossed over her middle as she moved through the store, toward the escalator.

  As she began the downward descent, she dropped her chin again. I boarded the moving staircase just behind her, maneuvering all my bags to one hand. She stood still, not climbing down the escalator, so it was then that I closed the last of distance between us.

  When I put my hand around the back of her neck, she hardly startled. She did, however, tighten her arms. I gently squeezed in support, telling her I was there before dropping my hand back to my side.

  At the bottom, she didn’t dart off ahead of me. I took the opportunity to walk her to her car in silence.

  I wasn’t sure what to do when we got to her car. She wouldn’t be coming back to the house—Anderson was gone for the day and wouldn’t be back until after dinner. While he was at school and then the Prescott house, I wanted to stop and see Winski, but otherwise, I was going to be home for the night. It wasn’t a night for Molly to be at the house.

  Nor would she be around in the morning; I’d take Anderson to school, go to morning skate, come home, nap…

  She’d pick him up from school and bring him to the house, but not until before I had to leave for a home game. Molly and Anderson would come to the game and I’d maybe see my son for a few minutes after, but the team would be boarding a bus to head to the airport shortly after for our last east coast trip of the calendar year.

  I’d be gone through Sunday night.

  I couldn’t leave this moment with Molly like this.

  Not when she was clearly upset.

  Sad.

  Why did she blame herself? was now my first question, followed by the original, What else had Curtis asked her to give up?

  “You don’t have to walk me to my car,” Molly finally spoke up. “I’m only a few rows back from you.”

  “Want to.”

  Her sigh was her only answer, but finally she loosened her arms from their tight hold.

  “I’m going to visit Trevor. He’s home now,” I broke into the silence. “Would you want to come? You talk to Callie, right?”

  Her answer was short—in length and tone. “Sometimes.”

  Okay…

  Molly made a turn, moving between cars, and I followed closely behind.

  “Did you have plans for the day?”

  She shook her head, still otherwise ignoring me.

  Turn around.

  Leave it alone.

  Count your losses.

  I stopped in the middle of the lot. “Molly.” My tone was exasperated but only because I was irritated with myself.

  Not with her.

  She turned then, and I could have sworn she rolled her eyes.

  Molly.

  At twenty-nine years old, rolled her eyes at me. “What, Mikey?”

  “Why are we doing this?” I asked with a shrug of my shoulders. “Why are we running around this? Things get uncomfortable, and someone pushes away. Yes. I will admit
to pushing you away, but dammit, Molly, you’re the best thing for Anderson. He loves you. Trina loved you. You are the person who makes my house function. If keeping you on as Anderson’s nanny is the only way I’ll keep seeing you, then I guess I’ll take it. My kid’s going to be twenty and in college, and I’m going to have to find a reason for you to come to the house,” I tried to joke, but it was painful—both unfunny and hell, the thought of her not being around hurt.

  “I can’t do this, Mikey,” Molly answered softly, shaking her head. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry.” She turned and hurried to her car, and for a moment, I considered letting her go.

  Letting this end.

  Here.

  In a parking lot, not even three weeks from Christmas.

  From the anniversary of my life going to shit.

  I mean, it was only poetic that my life continued to take dives this time of year.

  “I blame me too.”

  Hell, no.

  I wasn’t letting her go on that note.

  Fuck the rest of the noise; I wasn’t letting that one go.

  Nine years was a damn long time to hold that kind of burden, and Molly didn’t deserve it.

  I took a long stride forward, then another, reaching Molly’s car as she pulled open the door, sliding inside.

  Before she could pull the door shut, I reached for it even though I was closer to the hood of her car. Releasing the bags where I stood, I moved to round her door, standing in front of her.

  Molly looked up at me and, obviously resigned, put her hands her lap. “What, Mikey?”

  “Why do you blame yourself?”

  “Mikey…”

  “Why, Moll? Why do you blame yourself?” I towered over her, my left hand with a tight grasp on her door and the other, flat-palmed to the roof. “Because of me? Because things I said? I didn’t mean them. Not then. Sure as hell not now.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “Molly. It was an accident.”

  “I should have been the one driving. I should have been with her. You’ve said.”

  “Screw what I’ve said, Molly. You weren’t there. You couldn’t have stopped her from hitting the black ice. You could not have stopped it.”

  Molly shook her head, turning her face to the inside of the car as she did so. “You don’t understand.”

  I kneeled then, dropping my hands so I still held on to the door, but on the inside, and the other to my thigh. “Make me understand. There is no reason for you to blame yourself. None.”

  She tightened her jaw, but still refused to turn her head.

  “Okay.” I shrugged, not that she could see. “Then tell me what else Curtis wanted you to give up. Why did you give up your engagement? Because I’m starting to think it was Anderson. Me, even. Yeah.” I nodded, pieces falling together. “Because of me? You know damn well there’s some sort of energy between us. It’s why you run any time it gets too real.”

  “I wasn’t the one calling out Trina’s name in my sleep,” she scoffed, and I almost missed it. Almost.

  “I did not.”

  Now, Molly turned her face back toward mine. She wore her irritation well. “You did. You murmured her name and I realized…” She shook her head. “That’s why I left. Because as much as I craved the way you made me feel, I will never be Trina. And I don’t want to be Trina. Trina was one of a kind. She was beautiful, and special, and damn near perfect.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “She was one of a kind. But you know something, Moll? She. Chose. You.” I had to force myself to keep my hands to myself instead of grabbing for her hand, holding her tight. “What does that tell you? She chose you. If she was one of a kind, and she was special, don’t you think she only chose the best of hearts to be part of hers? Yes, Trina was special. And beautiful. But, Moll. You are too.”

  Molly shook her head, resorting to a quick roll of her eyes before she closed them.

  “Her accident wasn’t your fault.”

  With her eyes still closed, blocking me out, she answered, “It should have been me.”

  “Why? Why do you think that? Because she left behind her family; me? Because she left behind Anderson?”

  At my son’s name, her eyes opened again. Those whiskey-amber eyes of hers…

  “Don’t you wonder what he would be like if he knew her?” she asked, taking the conversation off of her. “What of hers he’d have picked up on?”

  “To be honest, I think he’d be more of a shit,” I said honestly, with a smile. “He’d be more like me.”

  “He’s already just like you.”

  Now I did reach for her hand. “Yeah, and he’s got pieces of you, too.”

  Molly frowned at that, and I shook her hand a little. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen his sarcastic side.”

  “He’s not sarcastic. He’s stubborn. Like you.”

  “No. Like you.”

  “I’m not stubborn.”

  I leveled her with a look.

  “I’m not!”

  “You’ve avoided a question for going on ten minutes.”

  “It’s not relevant.”

  “Stubborn.”

  She sighed again, and I saw as everything broke down inside her. Her entire demeanor changed as she slouched in the driver’s seat.

  “Question one. Why I blame myself,” she said, her words sounding mechanical. “I didn’t survive the flight from San Diego to Quebec well and had a killer headache. The Perris didn’t have anything that would help—Tylenol does nothing for my headaches—so I was going to head to a pharmacy. But between the roads and not knowing where I was and the fact I was having brightness issues, Trina said she would. And she took Anderson with her because he was teething and crying and my head…”

  “That’s not—”

  “Question two,” she continued, interrupting me. Her hand tightened beneath mine, but she didn’t remove it. “He wanted me to give up the only family I had left. And then you and me…we had to go and ruin—”

  Family.

  The only family she had left.

  It made sense then, why she never went back to Minnesota. Why she stuck around San Diego throughout the year, never asking for time off to go home.

  It made sense too, why the idea of losing Anderson obviously scared her so much. Why she avoided talking to me after I blurted I needed to talk to her about her job.

  And it made even more sense why she kept finding herself back at my house, no matter how many times she pushed away, I pushed away…

  I rose from my kneeling, leaning into her car and cutting off her words. I registered the widening of her eyes, the quick gasp from her lips, but still, within moments, claimed her mouth with mine.

  Chapter Ten

  Molly

  Mistake, mistake, mistake…

  Then Mikey changed the kiss.

  Still light.

  Still bordering on timid.

  Unsure, even.

  But with the smallest of nibbles to my bottom lip, I was gone. I opened my mouth and when his tongue brushed over mine, the same moment that I put my hand to the back of Mikey’s head, there was a shift of energy.

  Right, right, right…

  Trina.

  A whimper escaped my mouth, at the same moment that Mikey pulled back slightly, only enough to breath new air. He was on his way back in, ready to take my mouth again, when that whimper came out.

  He didn’t pull back.

  But his eyes locked in on mine.

  “I can’t,” I managed to whisper, as everything inside me tightened.

  Tightened so tightly, it was ready to burst.

  My heart, because I wanted this.

  My head, because I knew it was wrong.

  My tears, because I wanted..I needed..but,

  I.

  Couldn’t.

  Have.

  “We can,” Mikey answered, brushing his thumb over my cheek, cupping the side of my face gently.

  “It’s wrong, Mikey.”

  Mik
ey sighed, dropping his head forward, and I stared at the top of this head, at the waves of hair that I wanted to brush my hands through.

  Finally, he looked back up, dropping his hand from my face but only so he could grab my hand.

  “Anderson loves you. He needs you. Even if you’re not around all the time, but he needs you. I…” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know how our house would run without you in it, but that’s not your job, Moll. I want you. I’ve spent too long fighting it, and then pretending things hadn’t shifted between us, but they did, and they only made me want you more. It’s funny—” funny enough, his voice didn’t sound comical, “I’ve been on dates. I’ve tried to move on. But the one thing my girlfriends or dates have all said, is that they feel like they’re competing with a ghost. But Molly, the only one who would possibly be competing with a ghost, is you. But you’re not. You. Are. Not.” He squeezed my hand harder after the last word. “Those other women? They were competing with you. And it took our one morning together for me to realize that.”

  I couldn’t say anything.

  Had nothing to say to that.

  Surely, he didn’t mean it.

  He’d been so in love with Trina.

  So very much in love.

  You didn’t just…move on from that.

  With her friend, at that.

  He squeezed my hand again, gently this time, before standing. “Anderson and I will see you tomorrow.”

  I was frozen in my seat, not even reaching for the open door, but Mikey apparently had that covered. He shut my door softly and stepped away, back the few feet to where he’d left his bags.

  Snapping back to it, I shook my head and forced myself to pull out my keys, starting my car. When I looked back up, Mikey was gone.

  * * *

  What are you up to?

  I stared at my phone after picking it up, the ping of the incoming text breaking into my otherwise very quiet apartment.

  After leaving Mikey at the mall, I’d run home to change, heading to a second Cross Fit class. I needed the burst of movement to clear my head. However, the session didn’t last nearly long enough, and I made it back to my empty apartment.

  Hours to spare before it was an acceptable time to go to bed.

  I didn’t want to watch television.

  Didn’t want to mindlessly scroll through Facebook.